Daddy's Little Girl
by KatrinaLou1990
Summary: Bewitched Fan Fiction Contest Submission


"It's time" My wife says quietly, gently taking hold of my hand. As I hold it within my own I am not sure which one of us is shaking more although I fear it is me. If it had been any other day I would have been able to appreciate the beauty of the little church but all I have been able to do is stare blindly around not taking anything in. Hand in hand we walk down the aisle, it has been almost 26 years since our own marriage took place and yet it seems like only yesterday. My memory may not be what it once was but my memories of that day are still crystal clear in my mind. We turn off at the end of the aisle and enter the little side room. Inside our daughter sits preparing herself for her wedding.

The little church is perfect – it was something I knew from the moment she showed it to us. The little room in which our daughter sits was ideal for her with it neat little door which allows for the person inside to get outside and, for brides, to go to the main door to make their big entrance. I am caught off guard seeing her sat there in the middle of the room. She has her dress on already something I already knew in the back of my mind but which I wasn't prepared for. As yet her hair isn't completely styled nor is her make-up complete but to me she has never looked more beautiful. Her mother gasps and rushes to her, trying to hug her tight without creasing the dress. She smiles up at me and I cannot help but be taken back to her childhood.

_I stepped in to my daughter's bedroom, rubbing my eyes in tiredness. That day had been one of the hardest of my working life. I had been slaving away at an advertising campaign desperately trying to create the perfect pitch. Most of the work was downstairs on my desk waiting for me to spend many more hours bent over it. My little girl is sat at the small plastic table, she barely even notices me. She is staring at a piece of paper intently. Absently she reaches up and pushes a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. _

"_Daddy" She says turning her face to me. She is already so very beautiful at just six years old. She's so like her mum that it shocks me. Even worse is her resemblance to her auntie Serena. She smiles at me, a look of pure innocent. She stands up carefully. She pushes at her hair and tilts her head to one side. "I need your help"_

"_Why's that?" I ask, I feel the pull of my work downstairs but the pull to my daughter is a great deal stronger. She steps a little closer to me. She sighs deeply and glances back at the piece of paper of the table as if she's worried about telling me. For the briefest of seconds I panic. My daughter is powerful – more so than myself – and so there are many problems which I cannot fix something which scares me intently. Her mum is far more prepared for this._

"_The prince's ball is soon" She is the picture of innocence. To the rest of the world they wouldn't believe her to be anything more than a normal little girl but I know better. My daughter could easily conjure the ball herself – turning our house in to the prince's castle. She's brought characters to life before and I wouldn't put it past her to do it again._

"_Oh?" I raise my eyebrows waiting for her to elaborate on this. I know I need to get to my work because Larry will go absolutely spare if I do not finish it on time but I can't bring myself to leave Tab – partly for fear that she will do something I'll regret. She turns and walks to the table and picks up the paper bringing it over for me to examine. I smile as I look at it. She's created an entire invitation for herself even signing the prince's name. Every word is scrawled in her childish handwriting, the art work all hers. I cannot help but be relieved that she hasn't just twitched something up. _

"_If I go to the ball, I need to know how to dance" She says each word slowly. Her eyes are full of hope and expectation. Looking deep in to them I can almost see the dream world she believes to be real. "Please daddy" Her words tug at my heart strings, I do an exaggerated bow before her._

"_May I have this dance Cinderella?" She giggles in childish delight and beams at me. Apparently even though my daughter has met real fairytale princes and could conjure a million more her daddy is a far better substitute. But witchlet or not one day that will all change - Another 'prince' will take my place. _

_Still I sweep her up in to my arms and twirl her around her little bedroom taking delight in to moment with my daughter while she is still mine. I gently place a kiss on the top of her head. She laughs at me and continue in my exaggerated version of a waltz. I haven't danced like this since I was a boy and my mother had forced me to take dance lessons because it was the fashion. For the time I twirl her, my memory of my work dims. Because all too soon my little girl will be grown up. _

"What do you think?" My wife asks me bringing me out of my memory and back to the present day. She has moved from hugging our daughter to standing behind her. She has a strange expression on her face obviously from trying to work out why I have such a dreamy distant look on my face. I look at our daughter and see that she has finished doing her hair. It been pulled up on the back of her head in a neat style which they had decided on weeks previously when our daughter had asked her mother to do her hair and makeup – something which had pleased, and worried, my wife no end. Framing her face are two loose curls which appear to have slipped from my wife's careful work. Placed neatly within her hair are delicate little white flowers which are barely visible, my wife has now turned her attention to placing more of these little flowers in her hands moving so carefully in order to prevent the flowers from becoming damaged. Seeing this reminds me so much of watching her put little ribbons, bows and clips in to our daughters hair when she was younger. Barely enough time seems to have passed to allow for our little girl to be grown up enough to marry and yet here she is 24 years of age and about to get a husband of her own.

"Daddy – what do you think?" My daughter asks me now noticing how I did not respond to her mother. She is holding her head perfectly still but she is probing me with her eyes searching for reason behind my quietness. She looks so very innocent sat there waiting for my approval of her hair style when it really does not matter. It is her we are here to please and yet she still wants my opinion. Thinking of this I feel myself slipping back in to the past.

"_You'd really like him daddy" My daughter looks at me with her bright eyes and smiles shyly. With each passing day I see a little bit more of Samantha in her. She's definitely got more of her mother in her than she has me but as much as I can see such a striking resemblance she's very much her own person. She never fails to shock me. _

"_Really?" I cannot help but keep the scepticism out of my voice. I find it so difficult to even think of my little girl attracting attention from boys – although she has been doing so for many years – that it is near impossible for me to imagine her being some boy's girlfriend. I try very hard to keep this thought from entering my head all too often. She laughs softly – after all these years I recognise her as a laugh of nervousness as opposed to her laugh of joy, her laugh of kindness and her laugh of embarrassment. I have so many of her laughs catalogued in my mind just as I know her smiles and her expressions._

"_Really. And guess what?" She adds giving me a bright smile relieved to have found a way of diverting the conversation away from her boyfriend. She always has had a talent for that getting away from a subject so no longer wants to discuss with me. A talent she has earned from her mother and her grandmother and her aunt and a multitude of other female relatives. She is twirling a strand of hair around her finger – a trait she has retained from childhood. She is still so much a child and yet there the glimpses of the woman within are becoming more frequent. She's drifting between not really fitting either title. _

"_What sweetie?" I ask. She takes my hand and leads me from the kitchen. Adam is lounging on the living room floor watching some television show which I do not completely understand but which has him, and all his friends, addicted. He does not even notice as we pass. She guides me up the stairs and in to her bedroom. It is no longer the princess haven it was in her girlhood but is now a tastefully decorated in a more grown up style. It was difficult letting that change happen. Her mother found it especially difficult to watch the girlish decorates be taken from the room to be replaced by more grown up posters of bands and singers. She lets go of my hand and moves to the wardrobe and reaches in, pulling out a plastic clothes wrapper which held a dress which I had never seen before._

"_My prom dress – do you like it?" She asks carefully, looking at me with those beautiful eyes. I know that look – she's looking for my approval. She's given me that look so many times before. I move my eyes from her face to the dress. I don't quite know what to expect. I know, of course, that my daughter has exquisite taste especially for a teenager but it seems wrong that she is holding a prom dress because she does not really seem old enough to be having a prom. Her entire life seems to be passing by at a speed I cannot quite keep up with. She still seems like the little girl who wore princess dresses and fairy wings. _

"_It's beautiful" I say softly not quite trusting my voice not to quaver with emotion. She beams at me and places the dress back in the wardrobe with care before throwing herself at me full pelt – her arms thrown around my body squeezing me tight. I wrap her up in my own arms and gently kiss the top of her head. She pulls slightly away from me and tilts her head up in order to look at me._

"_Daddy the prom is two weeks away and I really need to practise my dancing" She says it softly, her eyes pleading with me. I can practically hear her voice begging me just as she had done in her younger years. Slowly I shift myself in to dancing posture moving her arms with mine until we are in a hold I remember from childhood lessons. She smiles and gives a small girlish giggle. Slowly I begin to move us around the room. She glides easily in my arms. So many times we have danced before with her on my feet or in my arms flying through the air but it seems strange to dance like this properly. She has a dreamy look in her eyes. I concentrate on the moment on the here and now because for this second nothing else matters. This is just me and my daughter – together – because I know that she will not be mine forever. _

"You look beautiful" I say drawing myself out of my memory this time. She beams at me just as she did when I said I liked her prom dress. My wife has finished with her hair and has moved over to the table where the makeup rests. Everything has been arrange meticulously so she barely needs to look in order to be able to locate whatever it is she needs. As expected she finds the makeup quickly and returns to start on our daughter's face although she does not need anything to enhance her looks. They have decided to keep it minimal because our daughter is emotional and fears she will cause her makeup to run horrendously if there is too much of it. For this reason my wife is bare faced because she already knows how much she is going to cry.

"Hold still now sweetie" My wife says and our daughter tries in vain to look neutral to make it as easy as possible for her mother to be able to put the makeup on. They both could have done it the easy way and I had given my wife my blessing this morning to do it because I had seen the shake of her hand and the shining tears in her eyes and known just how difficult this was going to be. She had shaken her head and told me she wanted to do this just as so many other mothers had done. A tear had slipped out as she had mentioned how she would have loved a moment like this with her own mother at our wedding. I watch as she moves expertly between the table and our daughter and how she makes her up. As I watch I feel my mind slipping.

"_You're not pregnant are you?" I ask my daughter, looking at her with what I hope is my best intense father stare. I know that I shouldn't accuse her in this way but since Adam's little announcement a year ago I have been more than a little suspicious. Of course I know there is a great deal of difference between my daughter and my son but I hadn't believed he could do it. She blushes with embarrassment. _

"_No Daddy" She answers and shuffles slightly in front of me. I wish her mother was here but Sam is away for the weekend at some sort of event. Normally my daughter would have waited to tell us both but it is obvious she is absolutely bursting with her news. Slowly she moves her hand from behind her back so that her hand is visible to me and I gasp as I see the ring on her finger. _

"_You're getting married?" I stutter the words in disbelief. I had known the relationship was getting serious – they had been dating for almost 2 years now but even so I am completely unprepared for the engagement ring. She has never worn rings before and so it is startling to see it on her previously bare hand. She nods and smiles before taking my hand and sitting down next to me on the sofa. _

"_Beginning of next year" She tells me smiling. She proceeds from here to tell me about how he proposed to her gushing with details which I normally wouldn't have cared about but which I cannot help but find interesting. I know that her mother will cry when she hears the news and listens to these very same words. She goes on to tell me about some of the plans that they have made and how happy she thinks they are going to be. She tells me she wants them to be as happy as me and her mum have been. I worry for her a little bit because she, like her mother, has chosen to marry a mortal. "But Daddy, I need some help"_

"_Why?" I ask her panicking a little bit. I would do absolutely anything for her but as she has grown older her problems have become harder for me to help with. She has needed help with boyfriends and makeup and clothes and jewellery which are hardly my forte and so her mother has been far more involved with that than I have. She smiles nervously and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear._

"_Well daddy, I know the wedding is still quite a few months away but I need to practice my dancing" Her smile widens a little. I smile back at her and stand. I bow to her as low and gracefully as I have manage and she smiles and stands giving me a small but beautifully graceful curtsey and I cannot help but grin back at her._

"_May I have this dance?" I ask and extend my hand to her, her smiles and extends her own hand until it falls to rest in my own. I pull her closer to myself and move my other arm in order to hold her, she lays her other arm to rest on mine. Slowly I begin to move feeling so much older than when I had danced with my previously. We move easily around the living room carefully avoiding the furniture of our home. She is smiling completely relaxed and at ease in my arms. She has grown more graceful as she has aged and she practically glides around the room. I know that soon I won't be her dance partner that it'll be her new husband but for now my princess is in my arms. _

"What's wrong daddy?" She asks me carefully looking at my with her beautifully made up face as her mother gently arranges the veil upon her head. Outside the room the sound of the church filling up are become increasingly apparent. She looks so beautiful sat there but it is only then that it truly strikes me that she is a bride – a real bride.

"I feel that I am losing my baby girl" I answer quietly feeling rather nervous at speaking this aloud. My wife looks at me and gives me a small smile of comfort and I know in that moment she is feeling exactly the same as I am. Our daughter gives me a small smile and shifting her dress slightly in to position. She comes to me and gently places a kiss on my cheek.

"It's time Daddy" she says quietly and I know what she means. It's time to go round to the front to walk her down the aisle and to give her away. I smile at her and sigh walking towards the front door of the little room ready to walk up through the now full church while she and her mother transport themselves to the front where I will meet them. She reaches out and grabs my hand pulling me back to her. "Walk me around Daddy" she says softly and leads me to the back door. I look to her mother who is wiping a tear away. She follows us out.

"You look beautiful darling" I say to her and feel my eyes filling with tears. She looks at me and raises a hand and gently wipes at my eyes just as I used to do when she had cried as a child.

"Daddy don't cry" She says to me sounding in that moment both the six year old Cinderella, the eighteen year old prom queen, the 23 year old fiancée and the 24 year old bride all at the same time. Standing at the entrance to the church is her grandmother looking older but still as feisty as she had always done. She kisses my daughter and gives her blessing before disappearing from view. As much as she would love to have been here in full it would arise to much suspicion because she just does not look old enough to be her grandmother. We have had our share of problems – my mother-in-law and I but even I cannot help but feel it is unfair that she is unable to take part in the festivities in the same way that I am able. The same is true of my father-in-law. To the outside world Endora and Maurice just do not look old enough to be the grandparents of my daughter. They both appear to have aged very little over my daughter's lifetime – this is understandable given that they are both well in to their hundreds and as a result the aging process is slowed but to the mortal world – my world – they are people well in to their nineties and who are seen as less able than what they are. I know that somewhere inside the church invisible to the human eye my family stands watching. Endora and Maurice are lucky in that respect in some form they are able to be here. They can watch the marriage ceremony albeit invisibly. My own mother and father have sadly passed. At the door my son is waiting with his own daughter, Fiala, wearing her little flower girl outfit and carrying a wicker basket of flowers. She gives us a big smile as we approach at 2 she looks very much a female version of her father.

"I'll take you inside mom" Adam says gently and takes hold of my wife's arm. She kisses our daughter's cheek quickly before allowing herself to be led away. I watch as she goes and turn to my daughter gently reaching up in order to pull down her veil. She smiles and nods. I open the door and gently nudge Fiala inside and as she begins her descent down the aisle scattering flowers the wedding march begins. I feel myself shake as I take my daughter's arm and begin to guide her down feeling her glide beside me. I see her husband to be waiting at the end of the aisle smiling at her, his face a mix of emotions. His best man is by his side shuffling. My wife's doppelganger cousin is sitting in a pew wearing far more conservative clothing than I am used too by her side is Arthur looking suitably emotional although his comic flair is evident in his decision to make himself look older. We stop at the front and I release her from my arm feeling a pang deep within me. She gives me a little squeeze and I go to sit by my wife and gently take her hand watching.

"We are here today to witness the wedding of Tabitha Stephens and Jonathan Lawrence Tate" The vicar begins and I watch as another man becomes a part of my daughter's life.


End file.
